Some call them savages...

Once a proud and noble race, the Narragansett people once numbered 2.400. (1)

Today they number 2,399.

I was standing outside the Assembly Rooms awaiting to gain entry to see Howard Marks' one man show. The sun was setting and its light was splitting the clouds. Long rays cut through the evening air and I stood staring at them. I'd had four very strong joints in the previous hour and was zoning out the noise of the queue of people around.

I stood thinking about why it was that everytime I see shafts of sunlight slicing through the cloud base I think The Grand Whazoo is about to make a grand appearance to impart sage wisdom upon me. "Perhaps it's a race memory." I thought. "It could be that way back when human beings were in their formative years they stared at the sky and began to question what caused the light to be so entrancing."

Suddenly I was jerked out of my semi-trance state by the sound of a mobile phone ringing in the pocket of a passer-by. As the passer-by passed-by one of the herd who was waiting for ingress to the same show as me made a sarcastic comment.

"Yah, ring ring, ring ring; Worst ringtone in the world." The sarcastic voice said.

My head spun and whirled as the dark voice in my head awoke. The voice spoke... "IT'S A FUCKING PHONE! ALL IT HAS TO DO IS RING! WHY HAVE A PHONE THAT BLEEPS AND WARBLES LIKE TWEEKY FROM BUCK ROGERS WHEN ALL IT HAS TO DO IS RING." It said.

I ignored the dark voice in my head and looked back into the sky. A second sarcastic voice cut through my burgeoning thoughts and chimed in. "Yaaah. Like aaahhh; Worst ringtone." It said. I dug deep and ignored the overwhelming desire to scream into the face of the two girls who were deriding a passer by because they perceived their ringtone to be uncool.

I remembered I was in a very public place, and would probably not be allowed into see the show if I suddenly snapped and bawled out a Paying Visitor to the city. I swallowed down my rage and anger and turned to read a review of Rich Hall's show in an attempt to try to filter out the conversation of the two ringtone obsessed idiots.

As I turned I caught a flash of movement out the corner of my eye. I quickly spun around just in time to see a snow leopard take a thirty foot vertical plunge onto the shoulders of one of them and chomp down on her head, accompanied by the sickening crunch of her vertebrae snapping as the snow leopards full weight landed upon her fragile frame.

I jerked wildly as I saw the leopard take off in a fraction of a second between two parked cars, dart across George Street and speed out of sight. "HOLY FUCK! Did you see the size of that animal?" I shrieked.

The faces of everyone who had witnessed the event glazed over and their heads twitched once to the left. It was as though their minds had overloaded when they saw something that couldn't be possible happen in front of their eyes and had reset to some basic programming.

I looked back to where the leopard had darted across the road. A spectral figure was standing where I had last seen the leopard. I looked at the face of the specter. It seemed familiar. I blinked twice and my memory threw up a name. John Noakes. I blinked, and opened my eyes to see that the spectral figure had vanished.

The queue began to move and I was pushed forwards with the surge. I tried desperately to see if there was any blood on the pavement but the push of the crowd swept me out of sight of the killzone and towards the door of the Assembly Rooms.

"Did you see that man? Did you? It was big fucking cat man, snapped her neck like a cocktail stick man, holy shit, this is way too much." I babbled, as I stumbled forwards.

I questioned the door staff but they claimed to have seen nothing. I think they knew something but weren't saying...

(1) According to tribal scrolls.